


I Don't Want To Be Your Enemy

by Njaybird



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Consenual but unwanted, F/M, Feelings, First Time, gentle Muntadhir, it's complicated - Freeform, kingdom of copper spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Njaybird/pseuds/Njaybird
Summary: Folding to pressure from Ghassan to at least attempt to produce an heir, Muntadhir and Nahri finally consummate their marriage.
Relationships: Nahri e-Nahid/Muntadhir al Qahtani
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	I Don't Want To Be Your Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Muntadhir is my problematic fave from the trilogy: I love the way he grows and develops as a character over the course of the books. And as much as he does ultimately hurt Nahri in lots of ways, I don't see him being horrible to her in the bedroom--in fact, I think the books suggest just the opposite. And I was really curious about how their relationship developed in Kingdom of Copper from the tension of their wedding night to the garden scene later on. So this is me working through that. 
> 
> This was a difficult scene to write for a few reasons: it's my first jump into this fandom, but it's also just a very tricky relationship and a particularly difficult moment in that relationship. I hope I've done it justice, and hit the right notes emotionally. Let me know what you think!

Nahri’s husband had woken her in her room in the infirmary that morning, an apologetic-looking Nisreen peering over his shoulder. She glared at Muntadhir through sleep-crusted eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he’d said. “But it was either going to be me or my father bursting in to demand grandchildren, and—” 

“It’s fine,” she had replied. Nahri had known this day would come, and found that she faced it now with more resignation than dread. That was something, she supposed. 

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he’d said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. Not a question, really—but he managed not to make it sound like a command, either. 

Now, she was full of food and wine, and Muntadhir’s broad hands were warm and gentle on her face. He’d been so gentle all evening, so painfully gentle. 

“You’re in control tonight, Nahri. You say stop, and we stop. Alright?” 

She thought it a bit rich to suggest that she was in control of anything at all in this situation, with Ghassan breathing down their necks and demanding they produce heirs — but she knew what Muntadhir was trying to do, and she grudgingly appreciated it. 

She nodded. “Yes. Alright.” 

“Alright.” The prince cupped his fingers and brushed her curls behind her ears. “Then let’s find out what turns you on, Banu Nahida.” He smiled wickedly before dipping to kiss her forehead, just between her brows. Nahri closed her eyes. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, moving to kiss her temple. “Relax. I’ve got you.” 

She gasped when his lips brushed behind her ear, and she felt him smile into her neck. His next kiss was bolder, his teeth grazing that same spot. Despite herself, she let out a soft moan. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he teased, wrapping one arm around her waist to bring their bodies closer together. 

Nahri huffed, half-heartedly. “Don’t get too cocky, Emir.” 

“As I’ve told you before,” he said, “no one leaves my bed unsatisfied. I don’t imagine you’ll be an exception.” 

His mouth had continued moving down her neck as he spoke, and he had landed on an absolutely divine spot at the base of her throat. Nahri’s retort died on her lips as Muntadhir bit down. She buckled into him, pleasure flooding her veins. 

“Sex is the only thing in my life that I do very, very well,” he continued, breath tickling her skin. “So let me make you feel good.” 

She had no argument against that. 

Some time later, looking up from between her legs, he cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Feeling good yet?”

He had spent long minutes—hours? she didn’t know— undressing her, lavishing her with kisses and touches, whispering into her skin how beautiful she was. Every nerve in her body was alight, his skilled hands and mouth awakening desires she’d never known herself to possess. 

Nahri spoke before she could stop herself: “I didn’t know it was possible to feel this good.” 

Muntadhir smiled almost boyishly at her response, and brushed his lips against the inside of her thigh. She shivered with pleasure, the scratch of his beard perfect against her soft skin. She had to admit that he really was very good at this. 

“It’s about to get better,” he said, his voice dark. Before she could respond, his tongue dipped between her folds. 

Nahri’s mouth fell open in a moan, the sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced. His hands held her hips still as they moved of their own accord, desperate for more of that feeling. He hummed his approval, lips vibrating deliciously against her sex. 

Her hands reached out to twist in his hair, and he moaned. _Oh god, does he like that?_ She tugged gently on his dark curls, wanting to make him moan again, and he looked up, eyes concerned. 

“Okay, Nahri?” His voice rasped, his breathing heavy. “Do you need to stop?” 

She shook her head. “Don’t stop.” 

The emir’s eyes sparkled. “As my lady commands.” 

When Nahri’s entire body spasmed with toe-curling pleasure several moments later, she felt Muntadhir easing her through it, pulling her slowly back into her body with gentle kisses, with light strokes of his fingers up and down her thighs. 

“Holy fuck,” she breathed, when she could form words. 

Her husband was still fully clothed. He’d just given her the most incredible orgasm of her life without so much as kicking off his slippers. And he had the gall to smirk at her. Smug bastard. 

“You’re absolutely shameless,” she said, though she couldn’t quite bring the barb she’d intended into her voice. 

His smile only widened. “Is that a complaint?” 

“Not exactly,” she conceded. Damn his wicked mouth, his clever tongue. 

“Good.” He trailed a finger in lazy strokes up her leg, smiling again when he felt her tremble in response. “There’s more, if you want it.” 

Nahri almost said that hadn’t wanted any of this, that her body was a dirty traitor for responding this way to him, and that he could take his skilled fingers and his stupid, magical mouth and leave her be. 

But she had known when she married him what they’d have to do, eventually. He was trying not to make it horrible, trying to make it good, even. _I know neither of us wanted this,_ he’d said, _but it doesn’t have to be some terrible ordeal. Let me make you feel good._ And he had, she thought grudgingly—really, really good. She did want more, despite herself. So she lifted herself onto her elbows and met his eyes. 

“Show me.” 

Muntadhir nodded, and kissed the inside of her knee before sitting up and pulling his tunic over his head. His shoes came off as well— _finally,_ she thought—and then his naked body was hovering over hers, his lips a breath away. She felt an absurd urge to kiss him.

“We could carry on like this,” he whispered against her mouth. “But I have a feeling that you might prefer being on top.” 

An unexpected jolt of desire moved through her, and she shuddered. 

“Mmm, I thought so,” Muntadhir said. His hands tightened on her waist and before she could blink, he’d turned them over and settled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips. He settled back against the headboard and brought their chests together. His hands resumed stroking along her ribs. 

“Is this alright?” he asked, eyes searching. 

She nodded.

“Alright.” He reached down beside the bed and brought back a small bottle. He warmed the oil in his hands as he continued speaking. “There might be some pain, at first. It should help if I touch you at the same time. Does that sound okay?” 

She nodded again. 

“And you’ll tell me if it’s too much, if you need to stop?” 

_Damn his gentleness._ It still took her by surprise. 

“Yes. I will.”

“Okay. Lift your hips for me, Nahri.”

Muntadhir’s hand reached between them and stroked along her folds, gently at first and then more insistent. She gasped as a finger dipped inside her. He kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, checking, taking care. It almost brought tears to her eyes. _He didn’t have to be this kind,_ she thought, as a second finger stretched her open. _He could have been a monster._

Her hips had begun moving into his hand, almost without her realising. It felt good, so good, and she closed her eyes, her head lolling back as she gave over to that feeling. 

“That’s it, Nahri,” he murmured into her shoulder. “ _Yes._ Show me what feels good.” 

His fingers stroked, spread, found all the places that made her tremble and cry out with pleasure. His mouth moved down her body and found her breast, tongue swiping over the nipple in time with his fingers. She felt her whole body coiling again, building to a peak of pleasure. 

“Ready?” he asked, voice thick with arousal. 

“Yes,” she said, and meant it. “Yes.” 

Nahri felt pressure, and then a bright spark of pain. She cried out and clung to Muntadhir’s shoulders, trying to focus on the hand that was still bringing her pleasure, moving gently over the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, his other hand stroking her hair. “I’ve got you. Take your time. Don’t move until you’re ready.” 

And then, all at once, she found she _did_ want to move. She rolled her hips experimentally, feeling another inch of him. They groaned together, and she moved again. Again. The slide of his cock inside her was like nothing she had ever felt before—slick and hot and hard and good. She blinked her eyes open to find Muntadhir’s closed, his mouth hanging open and his brow furrowed as if in concentration. 

“Is this okay?” she asked as she continued moving, realizing that for all his care of her, she’d hardly given a thought to whether he might enjoy himself tonight. 

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “It’s more than okay,” he said. “For you?”

She nodded. “More than okay.” 

“Good. Then keep going just like that.” 

They rocked together, falling into a rhythm that had them both gasping. As her body coiled tighter and tighter, Muntadhir slipped a hand between them again, his thumb brushing over that sensitive bud. It didn’t take long, after that, for her pleasure to crest, the wave of it breaking over her as she cried out and collapsed against her husband’s chest. A few quick thrusts and he was with her, a strangled shout muffled against her neck and strong arms wrapped tight around her trembling body. 

After a moment, he pressed his lips behind her ear again and said, “Are you alright?” 

She sighed, not knowing how to reply. Her _body_ felt—well. Incredible. Better than she’d known it was possible to feel. But emotionally? She was at sea, contradictory thoughts and feelings all tangled up together. 

Muntadhir seemed to guess what she was thinking. “I know this isn’t easy for either of us,” he said carefully. “But I don’t want us to be enemies, Nahri. I—I hope that we might even be friends. Eventually.”

She drew back to look at him, and took his face in her hands, rested her forehead against his. “I don’t want to be your enemy, either,” she said. 

And she found that she meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me on Twitter @Njaybird1


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